Business Suit
by Brandon McAuley
Summary: It was supposed to be a one night stand, but Gilbert Beilshmidt has no idea that his particular venture with one Roderich Edelstein is far more complicated than it needs to be. Gilbert is the grandson and future heir to Beilshmidt Global. Roderich is the prodigal son to Edelstein Inc. It's just a shame that these two are business rivals. Be warned: don't mix business and pleasure.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

* * *

For the fourth time that evening, Gilbert gave a languid sigh and rubbed his temples.

"_Hombre_," frowned Antonio behind the bar, "you're going to scare away all my customers if you keep that up. It's been tough keeping this place afloat as it is. Why don't you stir up a little trouble? The patrons love a lively atmosphere."

"Not tonight, buddy," said Gilbert with a shake of his head. His pale blonde hair was messy and untamed, though his tailored suit suggested that he could look the part of a millionaire if he put some effort into it.

"Trouble at work?" inquired the Spaniard as he polished a recently rinsed brandy glass.

"My grandfather's flying to a conference in Las Angeles tomorrow morning, which means I've got to keep everything running smoothly at this end," he explained. "And there's some important shit about buying out Edelstein Inc. during tomorrow's meeting that I'm in charge of. Gramps wants me to do everything to get our hands on them." He ran his fingers around the edge of the beer bottle's lip in front of him on the counter. There were dark circles beginning to form under his eyes, which seemed bloodshot from his obvious lack of sleep.

"So what's the problem?"

"I'm a lazy asshole, and I hate this job."

"Right, right," nodded Antonio with a chuckle. "I wouldn't complain, if I were you. I'd kill to be born with your privileges. You're the grandson of a business tycoon, _dios mío_. You wanted to be a writer, didn't you? Or was it a flutist?"

"You're one to talk. Look at this dump."

"It's just a summer job," muttered Antonio. He put the glass down. "To save up for the–"

"The restaurant, I know. That little Italian's got your wrapped around his finger, eh? I wouldn't work two jobs just to see his dreams come true."

"It's a joint objective," huffed the Spaniard. "I wanted a restaurant, and Lovino wants to be a chef."

"You think he's actually committed to something like that?"

"He's actually quite the cook. You'd know if you came over once and a while."

"But when I come over, he's always got _you_ cooking. You're whipped, man."

"He's pulling his weight, too. He's working for his grandfather at the pizzeria."

"Whipped," insisted Gilbert.

"You're just cranky because you're not getting any."

Gilbert looked up from his now-empty beer bottle. "I could get laid any day of the week."

"Is that a challenge, ¿_hermano_?"

"How much were you thinking?"

"You're the rich boy, you tell me," grinned Antonio.

"I don't even know the challenge."

"Where's the fun in that?"

"Fine," said Gilbert with a roll of the eyes. "If I win, whatever the hell the task may be, I get free drinks for the next two weeks. If you win, which won't happen, I'll give you one grand to help with your restaurant down payment."

Antonio raised his eyebrows in surprise. He thought about it for only a moment and said, "Deal."

"The deal it is. So, what devious trial do you have for me?"

"You see that guy over there?" inquired the Spaniard. He turned ever so slightly from behind the bar to point Gilbert in the right direction. Said guy was at the other end of the bar. "If you can get him to leave with you before last call, you win."

He was wearing a neatly pressed white dress shirt, accompanied with a dark navy blue sports jacket folded across the bar table. His dark brown hair had clearly been combed into a state of perfectness; save for one rogue curl that had a mind of its own. His dark rimmed glasses blocked a clear view of his eyes, but Gilbert was already rendered speechless by his delicate features. He looked like something from a fashion magazine cover; too perfect and out of place in a crummy bar like this one.

Gilbert turned back to Antonio. "I don't swing that way," he said.

"You already accepted the challenge," shrugged the Spaniard with a grin. "Unless this means you're going to give me the one grand without putting up a fight. ¡_Ay_! Just wait until I tell Lovino: only six more grand to go!"

"Oh, shut up. I'm not kissing my money away that easily. Just give me a sec'."

"Take all the time you need. You've got till closing time," said Antonio with a delighted chuckle and smile. "But once you play for our team, I guarantee you won't go back."

"Seven thousand?" Gilbert said, suddenly remembering.

"That's just the down payment," he sighed somewhat sadly. "Lovi has certain expectations. He doesn't want some crapper like this place."

"I really hope your boss isn't around to hear that."

Gilbert rolled his shoulders and cleared his throat as he looked over to the man again. He wasn't exactly hard on the eyes, which was a bonus he had to admit. But what if he didn't have any interest in men? What if he had a girlfriend or a wife? Gilbert had had his fair share of angry boyfriends, what with all his female misadventures, but this was a little different. Nevertheless, Gilbert Beilshmidt wasn't one to back down from a fight, or part from an easy thousand just because he didn't try.

There was a copy of the stocks section of the newspaper in front of him. That was something to start with. On top of that, his dishevelled tie and slight scowl was the universal language for a businessman's tough day at work.

"Rough day?" asked Gilbert, taking the seat next to him. The man looked up, startled. Now that Gilbert was up-close, he noticed how stunning his eyes were. They were wide and almost innocent looking. It didn't seem to suit him, but it worked.

"I guess you could say that," he nodded with a sigh. The man had an accent when he spoke. It was elegant, though, and almost refined.

"I know the feeling. Hey, let me buy you a drink."

"Much obliged."

Gilbert signalled Antonio over. "Two beers," he ordered. "The market's crap, huh?" he said as the bartender placed to bottles on the counter's surface. There was a small grin on Antonio's face. Gilbert ignored him as he walked back to the other side of bar to clean a table or two.

"You have no idea," the man nodded with another sigh. His breath smelled of bourbon and mint. It was nice, maybe even calming.

"Well, whatever you do, don't buy into Edelstein Inc."

"Oh?" he said. His interest was suddenly bought. Both his eyes were brimming with a soft curiosity.

"A little birdie told me Beilshmidt Global is going to buy them out tomorrow. They'll try to, at least." Gilbert took a sip of his beer.

"I highly doubt that," said the man. There was a tone of slight amusement in his voice that made Gilbert suddenly sit on the edge of his chair. It was like listening to music.

"Why would that be?" he inquired.

"I happen to know for a fact that they won't be selling at all. I hear it's the other way around."

"Where'd you hear that?"

"A little birdie," he smirked. Gilbert's heart skipped a beat, only God knew why. How was it possible to have such a beautiful face?

Gilbert smiled and stuck out his hand for a shake. "Gilbert."

The man shook it with an equally amiable smile. "Roderich," he said. His name seemed to roll off of his own tongue.

"You're not from around here, are you?"

"How could you tell?"

"You're speech. You're pronunciation, more specifically. It's very slight, but I can tell."

"I'm from Austria," he nodded.

"Well, Mr. Roderich the Austrian. Are you here for business or pleasure?"

"The former," he said. He looked back at the newspaper, suddenly lost in thought.

"Was it _strictly_ the former?"

And just then, Roderich laughed, and Gilbert's chest became tight. It was stunning. It was wonderful. Gilbert could hardly believe it.

"Are you flirting with me, Mr. Gilbert?" asked Roderich, smiling.

"I don't know. Is it working?"

"Maybe after another beer or two," he suggested.

"Ah, well if I need to get you drunk before my moves start working, bring on the tequila."

"These aren't the moves?"

"Roddy, baby, you better wait and see," he beamed like an idiot.

At the other end of the bar, Antonio silently kissed his money goodbye.

ӜӜӜ

His kisses were soft at first, but by the time they managed to stumble into Roderich's hotel room, Gilbert couldn't resist. The Austrian had such soft lips and tasted of neat tequila that it would have been a struggle to try and prolong the engagement. Gilbert combed his fingers through Roderich's dark brown hair, noticing how soft it was. Model. He was definitely a model. Maybe he was lying about his day job. Or maybe he posed part time. Gilbert couldn't tell. How could anyone look so Goddamn amazing and work in a cubicle all day?

"Ah!" gasped Roderich as Gilbert stroked over that one particular curl. How odd. Perhaps it was also because he was kissing a specific part of his pale, but perfect neck. That was probably it.

"Bed?" he whispered into Roderich's ear.

"Yes," was the only word the Austrian tourist could utter.

Clothes were shed quickly and clumsily, leaving a trail of evidence behind them before they crashed onto the mattress together, completely exposed. Their touches were fervent, their inhales heated, and their motions untamed.

"Gilbert," he murmured, clutching to Gilbert's shoulders. "Hurry up. Please." His face was flushed. It was adorable.

"Patience, princess," shushed Gilbert as he placed a hand on Roderich's bare chest. "I've got this." Roderich bucked his hips into Gilbert in protest. Clearly patience at that moment was not a virtue. "Where do you keep your condoms?"

"Nightstand drawer," he said without missing a beat.

"My sex-ed teacher used to say that safety was sexy."

Roderich laughed again, face still red and flesh still hot.

Once Gilbert had slipped it on, he leaned over and kissed Roderich once more. This time, it wasn't rushed, even though their hearts were beating at a unanimously fast rate. Gilbert took his time, exploring Roderich's mouth like he had until the end of time.

Finally, Gilbert inserted a single digit, prompting a gasp and squirm from the Austrian beneath him. Gilbert kissed him down his jawline, and then down his neck, rewarding him for his tolerance. Then, he slowly inserted a second finger, causing Roderich to groan loudly.

"Oh, _Gott_, Gilbert," he whined as Gilbert began a scissoring motion. There was a strange sense of satisfaction watching Roderich as he tilted his head back in pleasure. "Please. Just–"

"I don't want to hurt you," explained Gilbert.

"In case you haven't noticed," muttered Roderich. "I'm not a woman. I can take it." Gilbert kissed Roderich again, pecking his lips to his forehead.

"If you insist," he said.

When Gilbert inserted himself, it made Roderich's toes curl up in shock. Once the initial burn was gone from the friction of their skin, all Roderick could feel was the contentment of behind filled. The thrusts were slow at first, but they quickly found their rhythm as their shadows mimicked their dance on the opposite wall.

ӜӜӜ

"You're late," frowned Elizabeta as she struggled to comb back Gilbert's hair. "Where the hell were you? I've called you at least five times! Don't you ever answer your phone?"

"I got a little caught up," he cleared his throat.

"Jesus Christ, you smell awful," snapped his personal assistant. She reached into her pocket for an entire box of mints. She tossed them to him, which he promptly and obediently began popping into his mouth. "You were at Antonio's again, weren't you?" Gilbert didn't respond. Elizabeta was always right.

"Who the hell arranges meetings at nine in the morning?" he frowned. He had a slight headache, but he had to admit that he didn't regret a thing.

"I did," huffed the Hungarian, vexed.

"You of all people know that I can pull a game face this damn early."

"Oh, shut it. The representatives from Edelstein Inc. are already waiting for you."

"Thanks," he muttered as he brushed past her. "Do me a favour, sweetheart. Go grab me a cup of coffee. I'll call you in if I need anything."

"I'm in charge of your scheduling, not the coffee run. Now, get going. Your brother's already there."

Through the glass walls, Gilbert saw his younger brother studiously scanning over some paperwork. The three representatives were facing towards him, backs to Gilbert as he entered the room. "You're late," observed Ludwig stoically.

"Fashionably," he winked to the younger German. "Please accept my apologies, gentlemen. I couldn't find my keys."

As Gilbert sat down on the other side of the table next to Ludwig, he looked up to look his potential business partners in the eye. The first man on the very left was Francis Bonnefoy, an internationally known arbitrator amongst the corporate ranks, although nowadays he was mainly known for being Edelstein Inc.'s chief lawyer. The next man was a sour looking Swiss by the name of Vash Zwigli. There were nasty rumours going around that he was an ex-arms dealer turned head of security, but nothing was ever proven thanks to the wonderfully thorough work of the French lawyer beside him. But the last man at the table stunned him into being speechless.

It all came rushing back to him.

No wonder he looked so familiar. He was the fucking vice-president and prodigal son of the Edelstein fortune! Gilbert frowned, trying his best to hide the shock, which seemed equally shared on Roderich's face.

"I'll be damned," muttered Gilbert under his breath.

"What was that?" asked his brother.

"Let's get down to business, shall we?" insisted Francis charismatically. His smile was charming and bright, which pissed Gilbert off for some reason. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, but managed to nod.

"As was discussed last month," began Ludwig, "recent financial prosperity will prove to be advantageous if combined efforts between our two companies continue."

"We couldn't agree more," said Roderich. His voice was flat and not at all the same as the night before. There was very little room for character. It was dull and just as serious as his younger brother's. "However, we are concerned about the rapid growth of your company. You've bought out several companies in the last six months. Aren't you worried that too quick an expansion may cause a collapse?"

"I can assure you that we have been planning well in advance. Beilshmidt Global has only been considering self-sustaining companies that have nowhere else to go but up."

"Then what is your proposal for today?" inquired Francis.

"We'd obviously like to buy you out," said Gilbert.

"I'm afraid a total corporate takeover would not be on the table," retorted Roderich.

"Why do you say that, Mr. Edelstein?" he questioned.

"This company is worth far more to me than any other company can afford."

"If it's money, we pay quite handsomely."

"I'm well aware. It takes a lot to claim Yao International and Braginski Productions in less than two weeks."

"That news hasn't been announced yet," frowned Ludwig, somewhat concerned.

"A little birdie told me," shrugged Roderich. Gilbert could have sworn he saw the Austrian grin, but the expression disappeared as quickly as it had come. "Let's just say I make it my business to know business."

"Then what do you suggest?" asked Gilbert. "Beilshmidt Global is still very much interested in your company."

"Then invest like everybody else," snapped the Swiss, who had been silent in the entirety of the meeting. Roderich placed a hand on his shoulder, bringing him back into his quiet state. Gilbert frowned slightly at the action, though he didn't know why.

"I would like to suggest a partnership, if it must come to that. We are also very much interested in expanding our business relations."

"How much were you thinking?" said Gilbert.

"Ten million for seven percent of the company," stated Francis bluntly.

Gilbert and Ludwig exchanged doubtful looks.

"It's kind of steep," commented the eldest brother.

"That's business for you," said Roderich. "But we're willing to hear a counterproposal."

"Would you give us some time to think?" asked Ludwig.

"But of course," nodded the Austrian.

All five of them stood up from the table respectfully, shaking each other's hands like the gentlemen they dressed up to be.

"We're actually having a party for the aforementioned success with Yao International and Braginski Productions tomorrow. It was supposed to be announced at the party," explained Ludwig. "It would be an honour if you all attended."

"Excellent!" exclaimed Francis. "We look forward to attending."

"I'll tell my head of security to put your names on the list," nodded the younger brother. He gestured towards the door. "Please, this way."

The three of them filed out of the room, Ludwig following them to the door and then shutting it closed. "Seven percent," he muttered bitterly. "That's a joke."

"Yeah, sure," nodded Gilbert. He watched Roderich until he was out of view.

"Brother?"

"Yes?" said Gilbert absently.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"Never better," he nodded.

"Well, okay then. Nevertheless, seven percent is ridiculous. We'll have to aim a little higher. I'll make a call to Las Angeles and ask grandfather for some advice– Are you even listening, Gilbert?"

"_Ja_, totally! Actually, I was thinking I could talk to him."

"Do you mean Edelstein?"

"I think I can convince him to bump it up a few percent."

Ludwig frowned in suspicion. "I've never seen you take initiative like this before. Did you hit your head this morning?"

"I'm fine," he said with a roll of the eyes.

"If you insist, I won't stop you. You know a good deal when you see one."

"Great. I'll let you know tomorrow at the party."

ӜӜӜ

He knocked the door. It was on his fifth knock that he was finally answered.

"What the hell are you doing here?" fumed Roderich. He looked from left to right, hoping that nobody saw Gilbert arrive.

"Oh, good. I wasn't sure if this was the right hotel. I wanted to talk to you, Mr. _Edelstein_."

"I gave my business card to your secretary already. Call and have an appointment arranged."

"Elizabeta? She's not my secretary. And I'm pretty sure I didn't have to make an appointment with you last night."

"That was before I knew you were trying to put my family out of business. I advise that you go before Vash catches you. If you're lucky, you'll get away with broken knees." Roderich was about to close the door, but Gilbert managed to stick his foot inside before it closed completely.

"I'm just here to talk about business," he said sincerely. "And in all fairness, you didn't exactly tell me who you were either. I think we're pretty even."

Roderich glared at him suspiciously, but reluctantly let him inside. "Right, then," he mumbled. "What do you wish to discuss?"

"Wow," whistled Gilbert. "This place is a lot more impressive now that I can actually see it." The double suit was decorated with fine pieces of art, fresh flowers in various vases, and from the corner of Gilbert's eye, he could have sworn he saw a massive pool of a bathtub.

"Mr. Beilshmidt, please get to the point."

Gilbert pressed Roderich up against the door, snatching the Austrian's chin in his hand. He looked into his eyes, hungry and admiring. "We want fifteen percent."

"W-what?" stuttered Roderich, taken by surprise. "For ten million? That's a rip off." Gilbert forced his lips to Roderich's, effectively shutting him up. He was still as delicious as yesterday. He pulled away slightly, amazed when Roderich decided to follow. Gilbert finally broke the kiss.

"Fifteen percent, princess. That's all I'm asking."

"Nine percent," he frowned in protest.

Gilbert sighed. He kissed Roderich's neck, taking in his scent. He was fresh and smelled a little like soap. He must have just taken a shower, for his hair was a little damp. Gilbert hummed happily, slipping his hand under Roderich's dress shirt. "Last night was awesome," he whispered into the Austrian's ear, low and irresistible. "I thought about you all day."

"S-stop," whined Roderich. It was a soft plea, but it was also half-hearted. "The last thing we both need is a scandal, Mr. Beilshmidt."

"There's no need to be so formal," grinned Gilbert.

"But seriously. We can't do this. It's bad for the both of us."

"Only if we get caught," insisted Gilbert. He nibbled at Roderich's right ear, gentle and suggestive.

"I do like that idea," admitted Roderich.

"I want fifteen percent," said Gilbert again. He slipped his hand down to Roderich's belt buckle, fiddling with it to finally undo it and slip it off. Their hot breaths mixed, creating a frustratingly obvious cloud of lust around them.

"Nine point five," offered the brown haired man, flustered.

"Fifteen," remarked Gilbert assertively. He slowly unzipped Roderich's fly until his pants were loose around his hips.

"Ten."

"Fifteen, baby."

"Eleven. For goodness sake, eleven! That's my final offer!"

Gilbert smiled, pleased. "I guess I can work with that," he said as he kissed Roderich again, taking his time to enjoy the way Roderich grasped onto his shoulders like the night before.

* * *

TBC...

I highly appreciate reviews! Thank you for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

* * *

The party was extravagant, to say the least. The delicate lighting made the bubbly champagne of every glass sparkle in all its brilliance, rivalling the beauty of the stars above the terrace outside.

"Bored," complained Gilbert. He was leaning against the bar, not at all content with the suit Elizabeta had picked out for him. It was far too stiff for his liking.

"Behave," warned the Hungarian beside him. "You don't have to stay for the whole thing. Just greet the guests of honour and leave the rest to your brother. Be sociable."

"And let him get all of the glory?" he said bitterly. "I'm far too awesome to just ditch my little bro to do a man's business."

"Then shut up and drink your champagne."

"Nobody actually likes this stuff, you know. It just looks fancy."

"I'm well aware, but we had to bring out the light stuff for this evening. I don't want you making a drunken mess out of yourself like you normally do."

"I don't have a drinking problem, Eliza," he frowned.

"Remind me again what happened at the Tea Lead party. You were flirting with that poor Brit in front of everyone. The poor gentleman looked horrified."

"Let me remind you that his big American boyfriend came along and dragged him away. Any disasters were avoided, and I haven't been that drunk since."

"What about yesterday?"

Gilbert glanced over at her, surprised. "What _about_ yesterday?"

"You smelled like a bar floor, Gil."

"Just because I smell like alcohol, doesn't mean I had any. I spent a couple of hours keeping Tonio some company." _Not to mention a certain Austrian with unbelievably delicious skin. Oh. God. The way he moved his hips and moaned with every kiss that Gilbert planted on his neck. It was enough to drive a man insane_.

"Are you sure? I don't want to deal with another press release with the Beilshmidt heir's drunken ass on page six."

"I'm sure. It won't happen again. Thank you for your concern, secretary."

"I'm not your secretary," she muttered, taking a sip from the glass she had in her delicate hands.

"I think you need to lighten up," sighed Gilbert. He looked over to his left and saw the Turkish vice-president of Istanbul United Bank. "Don't you know him?"

Elizabeta looked over, but diverted her glance immediately. Gilbert thought he detected a faint blush. "What is he doing here?" she mumbled sheepishly.

"You're the one who wrote the guest list," shrugged Gilbert. "You tell me."

"He wasn't invited."

"Well, I think my drunkenness isn't as bad as a party crasher. He was an old boyfriend, right? Go say hi. _Be sociable._"

Elizabeta hesitated a moment and finally said, "I better not come back to find you keeled over." She walked off, her brown hair swaying as she moved. _But it was nothing compared to the dark brown of Roderich's hair as Gilbert ran his fingers through, tugging gently to persuade more moans from his lips and gasps of pleasure as they moved in a heated rhythm._

"Yes, ma'am," he said sarcastically.

The band was playing smooth jazz to keep up with the classy atmosphere.

"Brother," called Ludwig from the other side of the party. The younger brother waved Gilbert over. Ludwig was standing with Ivan Braginski and Wang Yao, the two guests whom Gilbert was obligated to treat nicely for the evening.

"The party is lovely," commented Yao. His German was heavily accented, but that was to be expected. "I heard your assistant does most of the planning herself."

"Yes," nodded Gilbert. "Elizabeta takes great pride in being a jack of all trades."

"Mr. Beilshmidt and… Mr. Beilshmidt?" called a timid little voice. _But Roderich's voice was equally as gentle, but not at all timid. It almost edged on begging Gilbert the night before. Begging and pleading to move faster so that he may feel the heat coil in his stomach and to see stars in the dark and to catch his breath in a wonderfully sweaty mess of bed sheets and kisses._

Both of the brothers turned and saw a young man behind them, recorder in hand. "My name is Matthew Williams with the Canadian branch of Business Digest." He held up a laminated ID badge as proof. "I was wondering if I could get a word with you and these two gentlemen."

"I think we all would be more than happy too," nodded Yao, "but Mr. Braginski will have to use me as a translator."

"A-ah, t-thank you!" he exclaimed in gratitude. He began his questions quickly. "Many of our readers are wondering, 'Why the hasty transaction?' How would care to explain the buyout form your perspective, Mr. Wang?"

"It was out of interest for my health," he chuckled. "I'm looking to retire, so selling the company to these young men's capable hands seemed like a good choice."

"Health?" urged the honey blonde man.

"It's nothing serious. I've been far too fortunate to keep reaping the rewards. It was simply time to move on."

"What about you, Mr. Braginski? What were your reasons for selling the company?"

The large business man spoke rapidly in Russian, which the Chinaman seemed to struggle to understand. After a moment of thinking, Yao turned to the Canadian reporter and finally said, "For the same reasons." Hesitantly, Matthew nodded and continued his questions.

Out of the corner of his eye, Gilbert noticed Francis and Vash walk in. Francis, as usual, was already chatting up the ladies that had the misfortune (or fortune, depending on the person) of crossing his path. The younger Swiss, however, had a young girl on his arm. The sweet thing looked adorable with a bow in her hair and large, innocent eyes. She smiled sweetly at the guests she was introduced to.

But where was that vexing Austrian?

"Uh, please excuse me," said Gilbert, patting Matthew on the shoulder. "If you have any questions, just ask my little bro here."

"O-okay, sure."

"Where are you going?" frowned Ludwig.

"Finalizing the deal we were talking about yesterday."

Matthew's eyes brightened slightly. "I-is it anything you'd like to mention for the interview?" But the elder brother was already on the move.

Gilbert scanned the crowd. He could see no discernible chocolaty brown hair or thick rimmed glasses, nor could he hear that slight accent in those German words. Gilbert finally made his way over to Francis, who greeted him as charmingly as he always did.

"_Mon ami_," he smiled widely. "Great party. Great ladies, too, I must say." Several woman around him giggled in delight. _They were pretty, but Roderich was sophisticated. He by far was more impressive than any one of these women. He was proper and polite, but boy could that change if Gilbert hit the right spot. Shouting profanities and groans had been the replacement for a lullaby during the time they shared. And when they were done and through, they slept even more soundly than any child in the world, completely tuckered out._

"I'm glad you're enjoying it," nodded Gilbert absently. "Say… Where's Edelstein? I was sure he'd be here."

"Ah, _oui_. He had some emergency to deal with."

"An emergency?" frowned Gilbert. Either Francis was being serious, or Roderich had just decided to avoid Gilbert for the evening.

"Yes. He's currently on the phone with his father back in Austria."

"I see. I hope everything's alright."

"I'm sure it is. It's something about a production line malfunction in one of the factories. It's peak season, so any delays could be disastrous."

"I see," repeated Gilbert.

"You look a little disappointed," snapped Vash. The girl Gilbert had spotted earlier was still with the Swiss, polite and smiling.

"Of course I'm disappointed. He should be enjoying himself. What might your name be, miss?" said Gilbert, forcing a smile onto his face.

"I'm Lili," the girl said softly. Her voice was sweet and high.

"Is this here your grumpy big brother?" grinned the business tycoon. The girl, barely above sixteen, laughed.

"Vash's not grumpy," she protested sweetly. "He doesn't like crowds."

"Lili," said Vash with a stern tone.

"Really?" beamed Gilbert, crossing his arms. "I never would have guessed. Well, I hope you three have a good evening. If your brother starts to have a panic attack, I'm sure you'll lead the way to the terrace perfectly fine, right?"

"Yes. Thank you, Mr. Beilshmidt."

"Please. Just call me Gilbert. I'm only Mr. Beilshmidt at the office. Otherwise I feel like my grandfather."

And with that, Gilbert left. He saw Elizabeta chatting up a large man with a frightening build, but decided against telling her that he was leaving. After all, she said that he only had to stay to greet the guests of honour. He no longer had any more obligations for the night. On his way out the door, he loosened his red satin tie from around his neck.

ӜӜӜ

"Yes," nodded Roderich. He held a cell phone to his ear. "Yes, I understand. I'll have Francis deal with it in the morning. Of course it can wait." He was sitting in the café area of the hotel, a cup of tea in front of him on the low table. He was lounged comfortably in a leather chair, cross-legged and slightly frustrated. What with the crisis back in Austria, there was numerous paper documents laid out in front of him on the table unto which he was marking here and there with notes that his French lawyer would review tomorrow.

Gilbert sat down across from him, earning an extremely irritated look from the Austrian, who was unable to say anything because of the phone call.

"Of course. Yes, I'll make sure to see it through, sir," continued Roderich, as if nothing had happened. "Alright, I'll hold."

Gilbert ran his foot up and down Roderich's leg from underneath the table, looking across the café as if nothing was amiss. He enjoyed the way Roderich shifted slightly, uncomfortable with the public contact.

"Stop it," he hissed, covering the phone receiver with his hand.

"Stop what?" Gilbert said with a shrug.

"Ah, yes," said Roderich, returning his attention to the call. "Thank you, sir. I'll take care of it at once." And with that, he hung up, slipping his cell into his pants pocket. Roderich gathered the loose pieces of paper on the table and organized them into a neat little pile in front of him. Work was officially done for the day. Now it was just a matter of getting rid of the idiot across from him.

"What do you want, Mr. Beilshmidt? I'm rather busy."

"Boy, you're sure formal, Mr. Edelstein. I'm here on business."

"I'm afraid that our business negotiations from yesterday evening have been finalized, so I see no reason for you to be here."

"I'm well aware," said Gilbert slowly.

There was a pause in their conversation. The only thing that could be heard was the muffled conversations of other customers and the clinking of glasses from behind the café counter. "This is a nice place," admitted Gilbert, looking around. The atmosphere was comfortable and warm.

"What do you want, Gilbert?"

"Why didn't you come to the party?"

"As you saw, I had an urgent matter to attend to," he said, eyeing the papers before him. "I'm sure Francis told you on my behalf."

"I thought about you all evening."

Roderich's face went a slight pink. "Don't say that so loudly. We're in public."

"So? Let them hear."

"I don't want a scandal," snapped the Austrian, dead serious. "It would be terrible for both our companies."

"I think I've heard your little rant before."

"I'm serious."

"I know you are."

"Then please kindly remove your foot from my crotch," muttered Roderich, vexed. Gilbert sighed, but placed both his feet back on the ground as requested. There was a cheeky grin on his face, as per usual.

"You weren't doing much complaining the first night we met."

"That was because I didn't know who you were."

"Then I think it's fate, don't you agree?"

"You are an ass," he frowned.

Gilbert laughed. He leaned in across the table slightly. "Yes, but I think we can agree you rather like my ass."

"I don't know what to do with you."

"How long are you staying in Germany?" asked Gilbert quickly.

"We shall be here for about a week or so. We've got several other meetings to go to while we're here," explained Roderich.

"Then have some fun while you're at it."

"What are you getting at?"

"I'm trying to say that I think I'm pretty damn awesome in bed, and if you forgot about your reputation and what our companies want us to be, you wouldn't be such a high-maintenance whining bi–"

"Alright, I get it," interrupted the Austrian. "So, essentially, you're suggesting sex."

"Yes."

"For the period of time that I am here."

"Yes."

"What's the catch?"

"Holy crap. Do you want me to write a freaking contract? The catch is you get to have sex with the awesome me, and don't you dare say you didn't enjoy it the last two times."

"And if we get caught?"

With a slightly frustrated sigh, Gilbert reached across the table and placed his hand gently upon Roderich's own. He let it rest there for a bit, looking deeply into his eyes.

"We won't," he finally said. "I like you enough to make that a promise."

ӜӜӜ

There was something intoxicating about him. Gilbert had been with his fair share of women and men, but there was something absolutely wonderfully different about the man that was now in his arms. He couldn't tell whether it was the way Roderich smelled, or the way that he moved under his weight, or the way his voice seemed to echo about in his mind like a haunting whisper. Perhaps it was because they were almost the same.

Roderich was unique in the fact that he understood. He knew what it was like: growing up in a privileged family, but having to follow the rules and expectations. They had both been groomed and trained for that single day they would take over their large tycoon empires. They both knew what it was like to be treated as a public figure before they were even needed, simply because it was the only way to prepare them for the real world.

It wasn't the money Gilbert was attracted to. God knew that he had enough. And by extension, it wasn't the expensive shirts or dress pants now forgotten on the floor or cologne or after shave or sports cars that made him yearn for Roderich's touch. It wasn't the way he stood with perfect posture, or the way that he moved with purpose but with a certain grace, or the fact that he was a gentleman in every right.

Roderich's sweet lips brushed against Gilbert's own, teasing. The touch had been so brief and gentle that Gilbert wasn't sure if it had happened at all. It was enough of a distraction to let Roderich roll over and pin Gilbert down onto his back. There was as smirk on those lips.

"I think you should be on the bottom tonight," said Roderich into Gilbert's ear. His voice was soft, low, maybe even challenging.

"What? No way," he protested immediately.

"Be fair, Gilbert. I propose that we alternate."

"That wasn't in the original agreement," he frowned, but wasn't entirely upset.

"It is now, so deal with it."

Gilbert was about to retort when Roderich brushed his hand across Gilbert's exposed member. He pressed his head back into the pillow, surprised how quickly that one action aroused him. He let out a grunt.

"What? You're not going to complain?" asked Roderich, amused.

"Just hurry up."

"With pleasure."

And holy cow, he fucked like a god.

Gilbert was pretty sure he was seeing stars, and that had only happened to him a few times during sex. Roderich was surprisingly experienced, though Gilbert was too stunned to ask how on Earth that was possible. He would draw his length nearly all the way out, causing Gilbert to twitch and beg again for completion, before slowly inching his way back in. No matter how Gilbert bucked his hips, Roderich kept the pace even.

"Ah," gasped Gilbert. "_Gott_, please just–"

"Shh…" hushed the Austrian. He pressed gentle kisses to Gilbert's neck. "Who was it who said to have patience again?"

"Some idiot, I'm sure," chuckled Gilbert.

Roderich pushed back into Gilbert, taking him by surprise. It made his toes curl in anticipation as a tingling sensation started to build. The friction of their skin kept them both at a sweltering temperature, despite the room's AC having been turned on. The creak of the bed as they moved and the moans that they individually gave off became an orchestra of sound that seemed to bounce off of the walls.

"Ah!" gasped Gilbert with each thrust. The pace was finally picking up. _Finally, finally, finally! _But, as if sensing Gilbert's thoughts, Roderich suddenly slowed down, resuming his slow process.

"Fuck! Goddammit, _please_," whined Gilbert indignantly.

"You can be pretty cute when you want to be," sighed Roderich. He kissed the pale haired man again, a smile felt upon his lips. He took both Gilbert's hands and pinned them down above his head on the mattress. The pillows had been thrown off somewhere in the rush. "Tell me how you want it," he said in a low tone. It was almost a growl. A hot, messy Austrian-accented German growl. Boy, that sure did the trick.

"Please," swallowed Gilbert. "Just… Just fuck me already. Harder. _Please_."

And that was all Roderich needed.

The pace was practically merciless. No more teasing, and no more stalling. He reached down and wrapped his hand around Gilbert's swollen member. The touch was enough to stun Gilbert into silence. The warmth that he felt building up inside him had every inch of his body pleading for just a little more. Roderich began stroking, starting from the base of the shaft, up, and then back down again. He made sure to keep even pressure, which got Gilbert beneath him squirming in pleasure.

"Oh…" he moaned loudly. "Yes! Ah, ah…"

"_Gott,_" hissed Roderich, closing his eyes to concentrate.

"Oh. Fuck. Fuck, yes, _please_! Fuck!"

And just like that, they were breathless, both panting for air. Roderich kept pumping Gilbert, taking pride in the way that his entire body jolted as the pleasure swept over him. Roderich slowly pulled out and manoeuvred himself to lie on his side next to Gilbert, who was still as satisfied as ever.

"Dear God," stated Gilbert, bemused. "We have to do that again."

"You're probably going to have sore hips in the morning," warned the Austrian.

"Ah, but I think it's worth it."

"So, who's the awesome one in bed again?" asked Roderich, pleased.

"I think it's a tie," was the stubborn retort.

But they both laughed, nevertheless.

* * *

TBC...

Hey! Hey! Look!

Seme!Austria! :D


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

* * *

It was a little past seven when they woke up together, tangled in each other's arms and legs. It was warm and comfortable and safe. Roderich touched Gilbert's face, noticing how oddly crimson his eyes looked in the morning light.

"Good morning," whispered Gilbert, eyes still a little heavy with sleep.

"How're your hips?"

"Fine," he said obstinately. He rolled over onto Roderich, kissing him briskly. And that was when he finally felt it. "Oh. Ow. Nope. I'm not fine. Never mind."

Roderich laughed. It was beautiful, always beautiful. Not only the sound, but the way his smile spread across his face. They kissed again, more tenderly this time.

"Are early morning cuddles apart of the agreement?" asked Roderich after a moment, frowning in thought.

"Do you want it to be?"

"I'm not sure. It's just risky. The longer you're here, the more likely we'll be caught–"

"Oh, shut up. You're doing it again."

"Doing what again?"

"You're thinking. Stop thinking for, like, a minute and maybe you'll enjoy yourself."

"But–"

"Do you like it or not?"

Roderich hesitated. "Yeah… I like it," he finally decided.

"Then stop complaining and let me kiss you."

Gilbert kissed Roderich's cheeks, his forehead, and the tip of his nose, avoiding the one area that was desperate for attention. He traced kisses down his jawline, breathing in Roderich's scent as he made his way down to the Austrian's warm neck. Roderich hummed in approval.

"What time should I stop by tonight?" asked Gilbert.

"Hm? Oh," sighed Roderich. "I'll be coming back a little late. We have a regional meeting with our correspondence here in Germany."

"Will you be too tired?"

"I'm not sure. Though I think you'll come regardless."

Gilbert simpered. "Cheeky little princess, aren't you?"

Roderich merely shrugged.

There was a knock at the door, which shocked the both of them into an adrenaline rush. Their hearts pounded loudly in their chests. Frozen, they glanced nervously at the door.

"Roderich?" called a familiar voice. It was Lili. "My brother wanted me to ask you if you'd prefer breakfast here on at the conference."

"Um…" breathed Roderich. "At the conference, dear."

"Okay. Francis says that your ride will be here in about twenty minutes."

"Thank you. I'll meet you downstairs, then."

"Sure!" she said happily before skipping off.

They listened to her footsteps fade away as she rounded a corner.

Gilbert exhaled in relief. "You're right. Risky."

"We're just lucky it wasn't Francis."

"Why?"

"He tends to just come in unannounced." Roderich slipped out of bed, allowing Gilbert to admire his perfectly naked body. "You'll have to wait until we leave before you go. Otherwise they might see you."

"Don't worry, princess," he said while stretching comfortably on the bed. "I can wait."

From where Gilbert was, he watched as Roderich slowly dressed himself for the day. Of course, it was after he had washed his faced and brushed his teeth and combed his messy hair into an almost neat fashion, save for that one curl that never seemed to go away.

Roderich was busy doing up his tie when Gilbert said, "Really? That tie with _that_ shirt?"

"What?"

"It doesn't match. Go with the red one."

"You're giving me fashion advice?"

"In my defence, my brother was the one who taught me."

"Alright. Why the red?"

"It's an assertive colour. You can't go into a meeting looking like you're not the boss."

Roderich sighed. "Fine, fine."

"C'mere. Let me do it."

Roderich walked over to the bed where Gilbert sat attentively and handed him the silk red tie. Gilbert expertly wrapped it around Roderich colour, fluidly forming it into a shell knot. He smoothed out the wrinkles that remind behind in Roderich's shirt. He stood up from the bed, pressing his weight against the Austrian's body.

"W-what are you doing?" demanded Roderich. He seemed a little flustered.

"Nothing," shrugged Gilbert as he brought their lips back together.

"For goodness sake," he sighed. "Put some clothes on."

"I like my freedom, Roddy."

"Please don't call me that."

"Geez. The suit goes on and suddenly you're all business on me."

"You don't like it?" challenged Roderich.

"_Meine Gott_, you're sexy."

"I've got to go to work now."

"I bet you do."

"Seriously."

"I know, I know."

Gilbert kissed Roderich again, tongues sliding across each other's palates. When they finally broke apart, Roderich said, "Don't forget. Wait half an hour."

"Yeah, yeah…"

"I'm serious, Gilbert."

"I know," he nodded. He pressed a quick kiss to Roderich's forehead. "Go kick some corporate ass."

ӜӜӜ

Gilbert glanced through the documents as quickly as he could. The figures all looked correct, but that didn't explain the slight drop in sales from last quarter. Perhaps it was the recent takeovers. All stocks tended to decrease when something new was happening. Consumers never really had faith in the market, especially when big bucks were on the line. Despite the five percent drop, Gilbert was surprisingly optimistic about future sales. He would just have to up the ante when it came to the marketing scheme for next month.

"Why do you look so happy today?" inquired Elizabeta as she walked into his office. She placed a cup of coffee onto his table, the aroma already wafting up to his nose.

"Aren't I allowed to be happy?" asked Gilbert, not looking up from the papers in front of him.

"Oh, God! You had sex, didn't you?"

"What? No. Of course not," he said while clearing his throat. His face felt hot all of a sudden. He was halfway through the paperwork, and he certainly didn't want to have any distractions.

"Who's the lucky girl? Or unlucky. Whatever."

"There's no girl, Eliza."

"A guy, then?"

"Nope."

"Don't lie to me, Gil," she warned. "The sooner I know, the easier I can cover up your mistakes before the press tear you a new one."

"I'm telling you, Eliza. Nothing's happened."

Elizabeta was not convinced.

"How was that guy at the party last night?" mentioned Gilbert. "That Sadiq guy from Turkey. Ex-boyfriend, right?"

"T-that's none of your business."

"You make it a point to meddle in my personal life, why don't I get to with yours?"

"It's a one way street, sweetie. The media doesn't care who I sleep with. I'm neither rich nor powerful." And with that, she left the room.

"You two looked great together!" he exclaimed loudly after her.

Gilbert, feeling accomplished in making his personal assistant uncomfortable, went back to work. After answering several phone calls and filing away paperwork, Gilbert was done for the day. That was a first in a very long time, too. He sat at his desk, surprised by his own efficiency.

He slipped his cell phone out of his pocket and decided to send a text: [12:30:31] _how's the mting?_

A few seconds later: [12:30:42] _How did you get this number?_

Gilbert grinned triumphantly: [12:30:57] _biz crd, rmmber?_

_[12:31:28] Dear Lord, you're writing's atrocious._

_[12:31: 36] i try._

_[12:31:45] I'm a little busy right now._

_[12:31:54] u can ignore me. im just bored._

_[12:32:31] Do your work._

_[12:32:35] done. :)_

_[12:32:53] I wish I could say the same_._ These damn old farts won't stop talking._

Gilbert laughed loudly, causing a few concerned heads to turn in the neighbouring office area. They probably thought he had finally lost his mind.

_[12:33:09] u'll make it._ Then a few seconds later, Gilbert sent another text: [12:33:12] _how do u want it 2nght?_

_[12:33:20] Pardon?_

_[12:33:27] hard? against the wall?;)_

_[12:34:03] In all honesty, I just wanted to take a bath tonight and go to sleep. I'll be too tired to be a willing participant._

_[12:34:21] i'll take care of it._

There was a knock at his door. Gilbert looked up, stuffing his cellphone quickly into his pocket.

"Brother?" called Ludwig.

"Ah, West! Did you need something?"

"I was on my way out to lunch when Antonio called."

"Oh?"

"He wanted to invite us to dinner. I wanted to know if you're schedule was free."

"I'm sorry kiddo. I'm meeting somebody this evening."

"Who might that be?" his younger brother inquired, curious.

"Edelstein."

"You mean Roderich Edelstein? For what reason?"

"He's got all the paperwork ready for the eleven percent we're buying."

"Eleven?" repeated Ludwig, astonished.

"We renegotiated."

Ludwig frowned. "Well done."

"You don't seem too pleased."

"It's just that I haven't ever seen you work so… diligently before."

"I can't leave you with all the work. What kind of a big brother would that make me?"

"Alright. If you're not going, I guess I could invite Feliciano in your place."

"Your personal assistant's assistant?"

"He's an intern. I thought it would be nice to let him get to know his coworkers."

"I'm sure."

"I'm off to lunch," said Ludwig and then he left.

ӜӜӜ

"He's up to something," argued Elizabeta. "I've never seen him that happy at work before. He finished all of his work for the day, and he didn't complain about it once."

"I must admit that it's odd, even for him," agreed Ludwig. "But there's nothing wrong with him being content. I'm glad for him."

"I just wish he'd tell me what's going on."

"If he has something to say, he'll say it. Have a little faith, Eliza. He's a grown man."

"Last time I let him be, he got himself a DUI. We were just lucky he didn't hurt anybody."

"I know," sighed Ludwig. "We just have to keep a cautious eye out for him. Don't try and pry or he'll decide to ignore us altogether."

Elizabeta, of course, thought otherwise.

ӜӜӜ

The water was bordering on boiling, but it was a comfort to Roderich's sore muscles. Gilbert kissed Roderich's wet neck, enjoying the smells of the bath salts, bubbles, and oils on his skin. Roderich leaned his head back, resting on Gilbert's shoulder, who promptly wrapped his arms around the Austrian. Steam from the bath fogged up the mirrors and glass in the massive bathroom.

"Do you like it?" he asked softly.

"Yes," sighed Roderich calmly. "Thank you."

They sat together, listening to water drops from the faucet fall into the bath.

_Drip, drip, drop_.

"I'd like to very much take you out to dinner some time," said Gilbert after a while.

"We're doing this all wrong," chuckled Roderich.

"What do you mean?"

"We slept together before we were formally introduced, and _now_ you want to go to dinner."

"Oops," shrugged Gilbert, not actually caring.

"But I'm afraid I'll have to decline."

"Why?"

"Our agreement was merely on the premise of sex. Having dinner together would simply be a formality."

"Oh," said Gilbert. He sounded a little disappointed. "Right."

"Besides, if it isn't under the guise of a business related matter, I don't think we'll ever be seen in public."

"You missed your chance at the party."

"I think I more than made up for that."

"True," nodded Gilbert thoughtfully. "Well, if that's the case. I'll invite you and your henchmen to dinner and have you sign those papers I brought over."

"For the eleven percent?"

"Yup."

"I still think that's a rip off."

"It was a good deal. I still want fifteen."

After a moment, Roderich said, "I don't think so."

"Why?"

"Because I'm starting to think you're making this a little more complicated than it needs to be. If you ask me, I would honestly say that this is a start of relationship."

"Is that… such a bad thing?"

Roderich went red to his ears, but didn't reply right away. He struggled to find the right words.

"I get that you want to protect our public image," said Gilbert. He pressed his head to the back of Roderich's neck. "I get it. I really do. But today I realized that you've made me quite happy and I think I'm really starting to like you. I know that my initial intention was mainly a physical one, but… Would it really be such a bad thing?"

Roderich was silent for a long time, lost in awkward thought. "Where do you honestly see this going, Gilbert? In four days, I'll be returning home with no idea when I'll ever be back."

"Haven't you heard of long distance?"

"What will your grandfather think? He's the CEO of a major corporation."

"So?"

"Public standings mean more to people like us. If the people don't like what we do, our stocks drop like flies. It's about money and image. They depend on each other. What do you think would happen if they found out about us? Two men, casual relations, and billions of dollars on the line. It's not a good idea, and that's that."

Gilbert exhaled with a frown. "Why do you keep thinking that we're going to get caught?"

"Why are you so confident that we won't?"

"You're making this more difficult than it needs to be."

"No, _you're_ the one making it difficult."

"Maybe I should leave."

"I think that would be best," nodded Roderich in agreement.

Gilbert stepped out of the bath and dried himself off before quickly dressing himself back up. Roderich remained, arms folded across his chest, brown furrowed in frustration.

"Is it because I said I was starting to like you?" snapped Gilbert. "Is commitment the issue?"

"This entire affiliation was supposed to be nothing more than a one night stand, dammit."

"So it _is_ because I said I like you."

"Are you even listening to me?" exclaimed the Austrian.

"You were the one who agreed to it."

"Yes, but you were the one who proposed the idea."

"How was I supposed to know you'd be some rich boy with appearance issues?"

"That's rich coming from a person with a DUI."

Gilbert flinched. "You know about that?"

"Everybody knows about that. It was front page worthy!" exclaimed Roderich. "They say that you paid off the guy you hit from speaking to the press to save face. If that isn't an appearance issue, I don't know what is."

Gilbert stood there, stunned. He licked his lips, unsure whether he should continue yelling or just walk out the door. Either way, he wouldn't feel any better. He swallowed, looking down at his shoes. The quiet was unbearable. He wanted to say something, anything.

"You're right," he finally said. His voice was so low it was barely audible.

"About what?"

"This was a mistake."

He turned briskly on his heels and walked out the door.

He was stalled at the elevator, waiting for the car to arrive. There was a small feeling in his stomach that told him to go back. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do after that, but he couldn't just leave. Not like this. It wasn't supposed to be like this. In hindsight, it had been stupid. They both knew it. How was it supposed to end? Roderich was right. Where did he honestly see this going?

"Fuck," he hissed under his breath as the elevator car finally arrived. "I fucked that up, didn't I?" he spoke to nobody in particular.

It was a long ride back down to the lobby.

* * *

TBC...

Oh no. What have I done? Their first fight... I'm not even sorry.

Thank you for reading! Please remember to review! It feeds my soul. :)


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

* * *

"There are three types of love: mutual, unrequited, and non-existent. Those who find love are fortunate. Out of the many things that could have happened, out of all the chances and the probability, they found it against all odds. And the only people who are ever jealous of those loving bastards are the ones cursed with a one-sided affection. They will yearn, even beg, but nothing will ever happen because chance was not on their side. The stars weren't aligned and all that crap. And the last type of love is more of an ignorant one. Not knowing what it's like, to feel so happy and content and complete, is really the only way to feel like you're not broken. After all, how can one long for the feeling when they have never felt it? And therefore, it is a love for gratitude of never having been hurt."

"Loviiiinooooo," sighed Gilbert. "How'd you ge' so smart?" He was resting his head on the bar counter, smelling spilled alcohol and stench from the last asshole who passed out there.

"I got it from some book Antonio got me for my birthday."

"Sounds depressin'."

"The bastard really doesn't know how to pick presents. You'd think I'd taught him a thing or two about how to treat a lover. Jesus Christ, he's useless."

"_Ja_. Bu' you love 'im, don't chya?" he slurred.

"I'm cutting you off," decided the young Italian, snatching away the beer mug from Gilbert's cold fingers. "Give me your keys, too."

Gilbert suddenly took offence to that. "Whyyyyy? I c'n take it! I'm not savin' face, princess." Just as Lovino was about to pick up the phone, Ludwig, Antonio, and Feliciano entered through the bar doors.

"It's about fucking time you guys made it," he snapped.

"What's he doing here?" inquired Ludwig, walking over to his brother's side. "You said you weren't coming to dinner, brother."

"He arrived about half an hour ago," explained the Italian bartender. Lovino shot a vicious glare to the Spaniard. "What's this about free drinks for two weeks?"

"He won a bet," shrugged Antonio. "It's nothing serious, _cariño._"

"Don't '_cariño_' me. That'll set us back months, knowing how this fucker drinks."

"How much has he had?" demanded the younger German.

"I just cut him off. He started slurring and he wouldn't give me his keys."

"Good thing we got here on time then," said Feliciano proudly.

"I'm sorry, but if this is the case, I'm afraid I'll have to ask for a rain check on that dinner," said Ludwig disappointedly.

"_No te preocupes, hombre_," said Antonio. "We'll wait until next time."

Ludwig helped his elder brother stand up from the bar. "Thank you for looking out for him," he said to Lovino.

"What the fuck else was I gonna do?" was the tart reply.

"I'm sorry, Feliciano, but could you get the door?"

"_Ve~_ Sure thing!"

After a seemingly endless struggle, Ludwig finally managed to strap Gilbert into the passenger seat.

"Yer always takin' such good care 'f me, bro," garbled the elder brother. "I love you, man…"

"_Ja, ja_. If you mean that you wouldn't be trying to kill yourself by destroying your liver."

"Meh. I 'nly need one 'f 'em."

"I think you mean your kidney." Ludwig sighed, brushing his hair back. He turned to Feliciano and said, "I'm sorry about dinner, but I have to take him home."

"_Ve~ _It's okay. I understand. Maybe next time."

And out of the drunken corner of his eye, Gilbert thought he saw Ludwig kiss the new Italian intern on the cheek. He was so hammered that he wouldn't remember it in the morning, though. He dozed off without a second thought crossing his mind.

ӜӜӜ

Somebody's cell phone was ringing, and it was doing nothing to help his raging headache. "Turn that fucking thing off!" he exclaimed into his pillow.

"Relax, Gilbert," said Elizabeta as she answered the phone. "You've reached Gilbert Beilshmidt's office, how may I help you?" She paused. "This is a business number, Sadiq," she whispered. "Yes. Yes I did. Thank you for the flowers, they were lovely." She glanced at the hung over Gilbert, who was eyeing her suspiciously. "I'll call you back later. My boss is having a little bit of a…crisis… Okay. I'll see you tonight."

Gilbert let out a gentle laugh, though the throbbing in his head wanted to make him do anything but. "I told you you'd hit it off."

"No you didn't."

"I said you two looked great together."

"I wish I could say the same about you," stated Elizabeta, tucking away her cell. "What were you thinking last night?"

"I wasn't."

"Do you have any idea how worried you make us? _All_ of us?"

Gilbert rolled onto his side, back facing his assistant.

"Please be honest with me, Gil. I think you owe me that much."

"Just lemme sleep, Eliza."

"You trust me, don't you? How long have you known me?"

"Too long."

"Since we were kids. I've never told anybody any of our secrets, Gil. You know that. If something's bothering you…"

"I'm fine," reiterated Gilbert.

"No you're not. If you were fine, you wouldn't have gotten drunk so easily. You promised us you wouldn't drink again. You have no idea how much I have to get Antonio and Lovino to babysit you while you're there!"

"Goddammit, Eliza, leave me be!" he exclaimed, sitting up a little quickly. "I'm not okay, but it doesn't matter if I tell you or not, 'cause either way I'm fucked."

Silence.

"Just tell me, Gilbert. Please."

More silence. There were birds chirping outside, calm and carefree.

"I think I'm in love," he finally said. His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Oh? That's all?"

"What do you mean?"

"You've never been denied before. I'm sure she'll come around."

"That's the problem."

"Hm?"

"It's not a she I'm talking about."

Elizabeta looked puzzled. "We're talking about… a guy?"

"Please don't judge."

"I'd never judge, sweetie. I think that's great!"

"You do?" he asked skeptically.

"Welcome to the twenty-first century, you dolt. So what's the problem? Who is he?"

"You have to promise not to do anything stupid."

"Why would I do such a thing?"

"Promise."

"I promise," she rolled her eyes.

"Roderich Edelstein."

Silence. She took a long hard moment to think. The name sounded familiar. And just like a speeding train, it hit her. "Holy cow!" she exclaimed. Gilbert's head throbbed at the high pitch. "Edelstein, as in _the _Edelstein?"

"Yes."

"You're right. That's a problem. Where'd you two even…? Oh, _Gott_. At the meeting, right?"

"Sure…"

She let out something close to a squeal.

"You're freaking me out," admitted Gilbert with a perplexed expression on his face.

"Really. I think it's great. So you care about him?"

"I… guess I do. I mean, it's not like I think about him all the time. He just… I feel happier."

"Then why were you drinking yourself to death?" snapped Elizabeta, suddenly serious.

"We had a… fight. I think."

"What do you mean, 'I think'?"

"I asked if he wanted to have dinner. Like, what normal people do, and he flipped out."

Elizabeta blinked, and then blinked again. "That should have been a big deal."

"Well… We didn't exactly start with more conventional methods."

"You… slept with him before the actual date?" Her eyes were scrutinizing.

"Maybe."

She gave off an exasperated sigh. "You're an idiot."

"And you said you weren't going to judge."

"It's not judging if it's obvious," frowned the brunette.

There was silence again, save for the loud ringing in Gilbert's ears. He suddenly remembered why he promised never to drink again, though last night's circumstances called for a little difference in his routine.

"You like him," she sighed. It was a statement, not a question. "You wouldn't have made yourself a drunken asshole for nothing. But I can see why he supposedly 'flipped out.'"

"Oh?"

"I'm sure the public wouldn't mind all too much what your sexual preference is, but it's really not the consumers we have to be worried about. It's more of his family, I suppose?"

"I'm listening," he said, sitting up straighter.

"The Edelstein's are, as a family only, very conservative. Very few people know them personally. Marriages, it's rumoured, have been arranged for the last five generations. Being seen with somebody, unrelated to business, isn't a valid option, let alone coming out of the closet. In addition, I heard that his father is actually quite homophobic."

"Ah," nodded Gilbert sadly. "Well, there you have it." He lay back onto the mattress, relaxing his aching neck. He heaved a sigh. "Fuck."

Elizabeta looked down to her lap, folding her fingers together. "Do you like him?"

"Hm?" he said, not having heard.

"Do you like him?" she repeated.

"Obviously."

ӜӜӜ

He had been in the shower for twenty minutes already, his body thoroughly soaked. Any longer and Francis might have been enticed to make a few snide comments. But to hell with it, thought Roderich. The sound of rushing water seemed to clear his thoughts, and that was exactly what he wanted.

It was just a shame it wasn't working.

_"No son of mine will go about kissing other boys," his father had shouted. The entire house could hear it, all ten personal servants included, which was astounding considering they were all the way down on the first floor in the lobby._

_"But I never–"_

_"Enough! Send him away. I don't want to see him here ever again."_

_Young Roderich clenched his fist, heat rising from his cheeks. He had never been so embarrassed before. His father never spoke to him this way, and during most of the year, they never spoke at all. It was just his luck to have his father angry during his visit back home. Roderich glanced over at Vash, who had remained silent the entire time, stoic as usual. They left the room together in a quiet shame._

_"I'm sorry," said the young blonde once the doors were safely closed behind them._

_"Don't be," said Roderich with a shake of the head._

_"We were only holding hands."_

_"I know."_

_"Are they going to send me away?"_

_Roderich felt his stomach knot. It was definitely probable, considering all his father had to do was fire them and forbid them from entering the grounds. _

_"It'll be okay. I promise," said Roderich with a hopeful heart._

He had been optimistic once, almost foolishly so.

Roderich closed his eyes as the water poured over his face. The heat nearly burned his delicate skin, but left a refreshing tingle once he shut off the shower. He stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist and snatching another to pat down his hair.

_"I'd like to very much take you out to dinner some time," said Gilbert._

His heart had leapt in his chest. The way he had said it was what made Roderich feel so guilty. It had been sweet and gentle, maybe even a little shy. Maybe he should have given the poor guy a chance. He sat down at the edge of his bed, feeling the softness of the bedcovers under his fingers.

There was a knock at his door.

"Roderich?" called Vash. He entered, not entirely surprised that the Austrian wasn't fully dressed yet. "How long do you expect Tea Lead to wait for you? The meeting's in half an hour."

"I know."

Vash showed no emotion; though Roderich was sure he rolled his eyes a little. The Swiss walked over briskly, always appearing as though he had a purpose. He quickly grabbed the towel around Roderich's neck and started to dry the brunette's damp hair. "You're going to catch a cold," he said indifferently. Roderich sat still until Vash was finished.

"Things haven't changed, have they?" asked the Austrian.

"What do you mean?"

"You're still taking care of me."

"You can hardly be considered responsible for your wellbeing," admitted Vash with a slight nod. "I trust you can dress yourself, though."

"Mm," was the dull response.

Vash finally frowned at Roderich, concerned. He was a little flushed in the cheeks, but that was probably because he was always using water that was hotter than necessary. There were slight dark circles under his eyes, but Vash could think of no reason for him to be losing sleep. "What's wrong?" he asked bluntly.

Roderich looked him in the eye. It was such an intimidating thing to hold eye contact, so he quickly surrendered and looked away. "Nothing."

"Don't lie to me," he warned.

"But I'm not–"

"Don't lie," said Vash sternly. "It's my job, as head of security, to ensure that you're safe and well."

"I am safe, don't worry."

"But not well, obviously."

Roderich risked another glance at Vash.

"You can tell me anything, Roderich."

"I know."

"Good." Vash quickly pressed his lips to Roderich's forehead before turning away towards the door. "Now, hurry and get dressed," he ordered as he left.

* * *

TBC...

**A/N:**

Please remember to review! It gives me motivation to keep writing... And writing more quickly, at that. ;)


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

* * *

It was his last day in Germany when Roderich got the call. He was reluctant to answer, and yet the anxiety forced him otherwise. He wasn't sure if it was Gilbert, or maybe Vash, or even his father. His bloody phone didn't have caller ID. If it was Vash, Roderich could probably ignore it. If it was his father calling, he would answer without a doubt. But if it was Gilbert... Well, he wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do.

"Hello?" he answered clearly. His heart was pounding. What if it really was him?

"Roderich," snapped his father's deep voice. Roderich held his breath. It wasn't Gilbert. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed.

"Hello, father."

"Would you care to explain to me why our company has had a jump in shares lately?" inquired the CEO of Edelstein Inc. He sounded angry, which caused Roderich to feel rather conflicted about the question.

"I would have assumed to that to be a good thing, father."

"I have reliable information that you've been sneaking around with that Beilshmidt boy. What the fuck do you think you're doing with somebody like him? _Hm_?"

Roderich's heart sank and his face went pale. How did he know? How did he find out? What was going to happen now? Would it even help to bother ask?

"I..." he hesitated. There were very few things that he could say. "It won't happen again, father." He felt like a child being scolded. "I ended my... relations with Mr. Beilshmidt a while ago."

"For God's sake, are you even listening?" His father's voice was loud and clear over the cell phone receiver. "Our stocks are _up_. Rumours have been flying like crazy."

"So... You're not angry?"

"Of course I'm angry. I will not stand for my only son to be a homosexual."

"I don't understand what you're trying to tell me, father," he admitted.

"Our company has always struggled to get on the good side of the LGBT community. Somebody took a somewhat compromising shot of you and the Beilshmidt boy. They..._ love_ it."

"Oh," was all Roderich managed to say. His head felt light.

"Do whatever it is you're doing, boy. As far as I can see, it's good for business. But the moment the stocks drop, you better fucking end it."

"You're telling me to… _use_ him?" Roderich was appalled. He couldn't possibly do that to Gilbert, to himself. Could he?

"I've got to go, boy. You're mother's having a dress fitting for your cousin's wedding. God, I hate weddings."

And without another word, his father hung up the phone.

Roderich stood there for a moment, dumbfounded. Did that really just happen? Was that permission, or...?

He sat down on the edge of his bed, thinking. He would be lying to himself if he said he didn't miss him. He would be lying if he said he didn't miss the way Gilbert's skin touched his, and the way that Gilbert grinned, or the way that Gilbert left kisses upon his neck. He would be lying if he said that he didn't want any of it.

Roderich let out an exasperated sigh.

Ӝ Ӝ Ӝ

Gilbert sat with his feet up on his desk. The rest of the office was dead silent, the last shift having been over quite some time ago. The only lights were those of the city streaming in through the large office window, and the lonely desk lamp just to his right. Gilbert wasn't exactly sure why he was still there, checking his phone for a message that he knew would probably never come. Boy, did he feel like shit.

Elizabeta and Ludwig had gone to the airport to pick up his grandfather. The meeting in Las Angeles had gone well, apparently. Within the next few months, Beilshmidt Global would be expanding to the United States, as well as Canada.

"You shouldn't sit like that," sighed Roderich from the office door. Gilbert looked up, startled. "It's bad for your back."

"You…" said Gilbert slowly, dumbfounded. "What're you… How'd you get in here?"

"I bribed the door man," he answered quietly.

Gilbert put his feet back on the floor and stood up slowly. The lighting made Roderich's facial features stand out beautifully. It was breath taking. The moment Roderich had entered; Gilbert could smell the expensive soaps and shampoo that fragmented the Austrian's skin and hair.

"What're you doing here?" inquired Gilbert calmly. Their voices could barely be heard over the office building's air conditioning system.

Roderich looked down at his feet. "I… I wanted to apologize."

Gilbert thought about saying something. Anything. But he didn't. He just stood there, unsure whether to stand his ground or hold Roderich in his arms.

This was never supposed to have happened. They were supposed to have been nothing more than casual fuck-buddies, and yet… Gilbert felt unsatisfied with that. Maybe Roderich did, too. This was so wonderfully screwed-up and terrible and delightful.

"It's my last day in Germany," informed Roderich quietly. "And I didn't want to leave without saying anything."

"I see," nodded Gilbert.

"It's just…" Roderich clenched his fists at his side, grinding his teeth as he searched for the right words. "I've never… I don't know what I'm supposed to do, Gilbert. When you told me that you… _liked _me… I blanked out. I don't know how this works. Do I tell you I like you, too? Do I pretend you never said it? Do I go home without solving anything between us? I don't–"

That was it. Gilbert took two quick strides, closing the gap between him and Roderich. He cupped the Austrian's delicate face in his hands and pressed his lips to Roderich's forehead, effectively silencing him.

"You don't have to do anything," he said quickly, firmly. "_Meine Gott_, no. I'm not forcing you to do anything."

"But that's the problem, dammit. I don't know. I just don't."

"We are the sons of two very important people," said Gilbert sternly. He never dropped his gaze. "I get it. I think I do, at least. We've been told all our lives that we have to eat, dress, and even talk in a certain way. I get it. But I'll be dammed if they have to tell me who I love."

Roderich froze, mouth agape slightly in shock. "_Love?_"

"Ah. That came out wrong." Gilbert took a step back, feeling his face heat up. Why did he always have to screw things up? "I'm sorry."

"No," said Roderich with a shake of his head. He stepped forward, closing the distance again. "Don't be sorry. It's okay. I don't… love you. But I do like you. A lot. Maybe I could learn to love you, but I just don't think I'm ready for it yet…"

Gilbert sighed in relief, a smile replacing the bashful look on his face. He leaned forward and kissed Roderich gently. "That's all I needed to hear."

Roderich gave a soft chuckle before allowing Gilbert to kiss him again and again and again. Dear Lord, this was the happiest he had been in nearly a week. They didn't have to worry about the complications anymore. They knew where they were going with this, screw the consequences.

Gilbert snaked his arms around Roderich's waste, chests touching chests while tongues explored one another. Through all the fervor, Gilbert somehow managed to seat Roderich on the edge of his desk as he fumbled at the Austrian's belt.

"_Gott_," panted Roderich. "Really? Here?"

"I can't wait," stated Gilbert as he slipped off Roderich's pants. "I'm sorry," he said before kissing him again.

"It's fine," was the quick response as Roderich's slim fingers managed to unbutton Gilbert's dress shirt. His hands savoured the feel of Gilbert's skin, warm and desperate.

The whole thing was desperate, actually. Gilbert began to wonder how much longer he would have lasted without Roderich. Every movement was with purpose, every gasp was passionate, and every moan was real.

"Ah, Gil, I–" breathed Roderich. The friction was unbearably sweet.

Gilbert kissed Roderich on the neck, the shoulders, and his chest as he thrust evenly in and out. He grabbed a fistful of Roderich's hair, pulling slightly to coax the Austrian into exposing more of his neck. Roderich groaned shamelessly, eyes closed in concentration.

"I missed you," said Gilbert, breathless.

"Oh..." whine Roderich. "Oh, please, Gilbert. Just-"

That was all the permission Gilbert needed. He wrapped his hand around Roderich's swollen member and began to stroke with tender determination. When Roderich came, his toes curled in absolute pleasure.

"I love you, Roderich," panted Gilbert. They both knew he didn't have to say it back. But there was a part of Roderich that flipped in joy to hear such words. Gilbert repeated himself, Roderich's name becoming more like a prayer. "I love you. I love you."

And then the coiling pit of hit at the base of his stomach errupted and filled Gilbert with the sensation of satisfaction and completion.

They remained there, grapsing at each other, breathing in each other's scent. They kissed tenderly, gently. Roderich felt safe here, unthreatened.

"I..." he started. "I really..."

"Shh..." sighed Gilbert, touching his lips to Roderich's again.

_I really like you_.

Roderich hadn't felt this content in a long time. He was happy in this man's arms. This brilliant, frustrating man.

But when it was all said and done, Roderich didn't dare say that he was using him, too.

* * *

**A/N:**

DUN. DUN. DUN.

Thank you for reading! Please remember to review/favourite/follow. If you'd like, of course.


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